A Place For Us
by Lady M and Queen RoseMarie
Summary: More Foreshadowing...did Christian really not notice how sick Satine was?


I swore on my soul that I would never, never write a songfic.  
  
Looks like I'm going to hell.  
  
This song just fit perfectly and I needed a little foreshadowing to lead into the larger fic Rosemarie and I are writing. Enjoy and review. As always, I don't own any of this, Baz Luhrman and Craig Pierce do.  
  
A PLACE FOR US  
  
"All right, I'll feed you the line." Christian held up his latest chapter of the script. He didn't really need to read it, of course, but he knew Satine would not appreciate his showing off. "I shall arrive just as the priest begins the ceremony, we can declare our love before him, and the Maharaja will have to allow us to wed!" He closed the distance between them and clasped her hands, smiling that incredible smile of his that seemed to mesmerize even the most jaded of hearts.  
  
Satine opened her mouth to deliver the answering line, but instead choked and then collapsed against the startled poet in a fit of coughing that was the worst she had experienced since the night she'd fainted last week. "I'm...sorry...Christian..."  
  
Surprised or not, Christian reacted quickly and laid her gently on the bed, returning in an instant with the well-watered wine Satine had been drinking all afternoon. He slipped a gentle arm around her and held the glass for her to sip from. "Darling there's nothing to apologize for. Sit and rest." He smiled, brushing her hair back from her damp forehead. "At the rate you learn new lines, you'll have these down in a quarter of an hour. There is no need to worry." He pressed his lips to her forehead, noting how warm she was, but showing no outward reaction to it.  
  
"But not tonight, please? I...I'm so tired." Satine wanted to cry, really. She was damn tired of being sick and tired.  
  
"Of course not tonight!" Christian slipped his arm from her shoulders and turned away. "I'll make us some tea shall I? My aunt always said hot tea was the best thing for a cough – "  
  
She caught his arm before he could go, "No, nothing hot, I'm already so hot..." Her voice trailed off and she closed her eyes with a sigh.  
  
The poet felt a faint stirring of worry. This lingering illness of hers had worsened lately, and the fact that she continued to be so warm when the weather had turned a definite chill was more than a little disturbing. He smoothed her hair back from her forehead and sat beside her, his back pressed against the wall. She lifted her head and smiled, sitting up so she could lean against him, laying her head on his shoulder.  
  
"When the show is finished Christian, will you write another story? One just for me?" Oddly enough, relaxing against him, with his arm around her was more of a balm than the medicines Marie pushed on her. "Something simple and carefree, without all the bright lights and glitter?" She placed her free hand in his, and their hands made love, fingers stroking with heavy pressure one minute, and feather light touches the next.  
  
Christian smiled when she looked up and nodded, his mind already working with an idea. "A story about an enchanted place where lovers can be together without care? Where if we ask time will just...stop?"  
  
Eagerly she nodded and sat back, "Where we are just ourselves and no one wants anything from us!"  
  
He took her other hand and continued their finger dance, singing softly.  
  
"There's a place for us,  
  
Somewhere a place for us.  
  
Peace and quiet and open air  
  
Wait for us...  
Somewhere."  
  
Wonder filled her eyes and the world fell away at the sound of his voice. Grinning, he lifted her hands to his lips and kissed her fingertips, one by one. She laughed with delight, forgetting for a moment the tightness in her chest, the pain in her throat melting away. He stroked her cheek and closed his eyes, humming softly, and then the next verse filled the little garret with gentle magic.  
  
"There's a time for us,  
  
Some day a time for us,  
  
Time together with time spare,  
  
Time to learn, time to care,  
  
Some day!"  
  
She leaned close and they rubbed noses, then cheeks, sharing a touch that was sweet with the promise of hope. Satine had lived her life on dreams and ambition, but those could only sustain her for so long. Her poet could pull symphonies from thin air and the courtesan had begun to believe that she with the success of the play she could be free. They leaned back, nearly drowning in one another's eyes, and when he sang the next verse she joined him, knowing, she knew not how, what the next lines would be.  
  
"Somewhere.  
  
We'll find a new way of living,  
  
We'll find a way of forgiving  
  
Somewhere . . ."  
  
The song ended on a fading note and joyously Satine reached out to throw her arms around Christian again. But another cough clawed its way up out of her chest before she could do so and instead she fell against him and covered her mouth tightly with the handkerchief she now always had tucked in her sleeve to keep the spots of blood hidden from his worried eyes. 'I believe I would like that tea after all Christian." "Of course darling, you just sit back and rest." As he got up slowly from the bed, he laid her against the thin pillows with gentle hands so as not to jostle her unduly. Her eyes were already closing as her head touched the pillow. When he glanced back from setting the kettle on the tiny stove's scorching surface, he could see that she was already asleep. The little voice of fear that began speaking to him just that morning got a little louder, but he ruthlessly shoved it back into a corner of his mind. Tonight when he slept it would come crawling out to twist and darken his dreams, but in the daylight he could drive it back.  
  
Sitting beside her again, looking at her pale face, he renewed his determination that this play would be a success. She would have the stardom to free herself from this ugly life and he would have the money to support himself and write what he wanted to write. Gently, he once again pushed the coppery curls off her damp forehead and sang the last verse softly. He was not sure if it was a pledge or a plea.  
  
"There's a place for us,  
  
A time and place for us.  
  
Hold my hand and we're halfway there.  
  
Hold my hand and I'll take you there  
  
Somehow,  
  
Some day,  
  
Somewhere!" 


End file.
